Salaam and smile

A Story by Mashoosh Kateb

Based on a true incident

Salim regularly attended the Friday gathering at his local mosque. This week was special since he was expecting his high school test results, a crucial time in every man’s life. The results, which would determine the rest of his future; his choice of college, his career and in a few years his rank in the eligible bachelor list. So he walked with extra vigor to the mosque to make a special request to his Creator. Part of his Friday rituals after completing the prayers was also giving charity to the less fortunate, who lined both sides of the mosque’s courtyard. Salim did not randomly pick beggars to give alms to. They underwent Salim’s rigorous visual qualification process. First on Salim’s list were handicaps; lost limbs, blind and such. Second came women carrying small children who also calmly waited for their turn. He was careful in picking out the silent ones from the noisy ones, those who did not invade his personal space and were making loud demands like they somehow deserved it better than the rest. He knew the shy ones did not like being there and were only there because they had no other choice. Finally came older folks, hanging on to their lives and did not have much of a future. Able bodied demanders got nothing from Salim except an earful of advice on how they should use their functional faculties to find a job. By now, Salim knew who they were and they knew who Salim was, so they stayed clear of each other’s path.

Salim had some left over money after giving to who he thought deserved it and was looking for someone so as to not take any money home. He would probably spend it in something frivolous anyway if he took it back, it was better spent in charity. He looked around to see if there was anyone other than the usual no-good scroungers. His eye caught a familiar presence at the back of the courtyard. He always wondered why this person did not stand in line for alms or bother anyone with stories of his misfortune. Like everyone else, Salim would pass him not giving a second thought about who he was or why he was sitting there. He was not even sure if he was looking for money or just someone who worked at the mosque. He never saw his face as the man would always have his face buried under his legs like he was hiding or crying. He seemed able bodied but did fit into one of Salim’s criteria. He was not asking for money. Salim slowly walked toward the man.

“Can I give you some money?” Salim hesitantly asked.

The man, still looking down, raised his hand up for the charity and as his sleeve from his battered robe slid back, Salim was shocked to see his hand covered in lumps, the size of small marbles. Salim took a step back in disgust. Salim did not want to offend the man but kept on looking as he was not sure what to do next.

Still waiting to feel the money on his hand, the man finally looked up to shock Salim even more. His face was also crowded with several lumps just like his hand. Salim gave the man the worst excuse for a smile but the man showed no reaction, like he was all too familiar with Salim’s expression. No matter how hard Salim tried it was evident that he was not going to get close to this man. He dropped the money next to him and quickly walked away. As he walked out of the mosque, he felt like he had shrunk into a mouse. If guilt had personified, it was squeezing his heart out through his throat. Salim was not the kind of person who would want to hurt anyone’s feelings or offend anyone so this incident left him feel incomplete inside. He did not know he was capable of feeling such disgust for a person. And for what? The way he looked? Did that make him a horrible person? Salim wondered.

The following days Salim could not stop thinking about how he horribly treated another human being. He would have nightmares about being covered in lumps like the man. Salim’s high school results came and he passed with flying colors but the incident at the mosque put a damper in his joy. He had to do something about it.

The following Friday Salim went to the same mosque, hoping and not hoping to see that man again. As he entered the courtyard, he caught sight of the man sitting in the same spot with his face down. Salim now knew why no one bothered him, talked to him or even look at his direction and he also realized that the man made it easier on the mosque goers by detaching himself from them.

After completing his prayers, he walked toward the man.

“Salaam.” Salim said gathering all the courage to stand in front of the man and trying not to look away.

The man seemed to recognize Salim’s voice from his last encounter and immediately looked up in surprise.

“Can I ask you something?”

The man nodded.

“Are you suffering from some disease? Do you have to go to the doctor?”

“No” the man chuckled. “I was born like this”

Salim felt a bit relieved. He took a step closer to the man and squatted in front of him.

“My name is Salim. What is your name?” Salim asked as the men slowly streamed out of the mosque.

“They call me goli baba” the man said pointing to the same people who were regularly asking for money but did not make it to Salim’s shortlist.

"Marble man? What a cruel nick name" Salim thought but did not say anything. Salim’s disregard toward the group of men whom he never liked grew even more. He quickly dug into his pocket and took out money to give it to “marble man”.

The man shook his head denying the charity.

“I get many one time visitors who throw their money at me from a safe distance and the mosque folks keep me fed”

“You are the actually the first person to return” the man said looking down.

"It's been a while since I realized I existed. In fact, I thought I had forgotten how to speak to someone"

He looked at Salim and said “I don’t want your money or food. Just your salaam and smile.”

© 2013 Mashoosh Kateb

Author's Note

Comments and critiques welcome. There is nothing extraoridnary about this story but I hope its an uplifting one.

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register

Featured Review

Nevtry

It is an uplifting story. I was a little disappointed in Salim in the beginning, but by the end I was smiling at words of the elder man. I enjoyed it you story.

A few things though:

Firstly, you're missing some grammar here and there.

Also, this line "It's been a while since I realized I existed." is a little weird because of the 'I exist' part. The problem seems to be the lack of acknowledgment by others rather than self-recognition.

Lastly, I would recommend that you not write 'marble man' or any translations in brackets. It breaks the flow of the story because you don't speak in brackets. I realize that it's a translation, but it would be better if you added it some other way. Maybe have Salim think about it, such as with:

“/They/ call me goli baba.” the man said pointing to the same people who were regularly asking for money but did not make it to Salim’s shortlist.

Marble man? Salim thought to himself. That's a very cruel nickname to give someone. Salim’s disregard toward the group of men..."

There are a few other small mistakes, but over all it's a good piece. :)

- N